


Handle with Care

by Marrilyn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidents, Apologies, Biting, Breasts, Bruises, Choking, Crying, F/F, Guilt, Hurt Rowena MacLeod, Kissing, Sexual Roleplay, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24442900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marrilyn/pseuds/Marrilyn
Summary: A sexual role-play leads to guilt and tears.
Relationships: Rowena MacLeod/You
Kudos: 16





	Handle with Care

It was a game no different than the countless others you'd played.

It started with a kiss that made you tingle all over, nerves on fire, going off like fireworks on the Fourth of July. A push — a shove, really, for you intended to make the most of the night — and Rowena was on her back, naked as the day she'd been born, arms spread, skin glistening like a milky sky dusted with a constellation of freckles, hair spilled around her head like a fiery halo.

Lying so still, her eyes observing your every move, taking it in like prey preparing for an attack, heart pounding softly in her chest, she resembled an angel. She was beautiful as one, charming, magnificent, supernatural not just in species but in presence itself. A force of nature you never tired of claiming, of making it clear to everyone that asked — and those that didn't — that she was yours.

She didn't get like this for just everyone. She didn't bare herself — body, mind, and soul — to any stranger. It took years of love, of devotion, of endless patience and support and kindness for you to earn her trust to be allowed to play this game.

As much as she wanted to pretend otherwise, Rowena was a delicate thing. Gentle. Fragile. She needed to be handled with care, even when she relinquished all control and told you, in no certain terms, to go at it. To roam free. She had her limits, and she trusted you to respect them.

Straddling her, you pressed your mouth to hers in another kiss. Tonight was your night. As much as she loved being in control, there were times when she relished being a powerless, naughty girl in need of punishment. A few days ago, that was your role. Tonight, it was hers. Your hands roamed everywhere, tugging, squeezing, feeling her warmth underneath your fingertips, as delicious as her mouth on yours.

Rowena's eyes fell closed, a moan escaping her lips — her swollen, cherry-red lips, hungry for kisses, begging for more. Your teeth grazed the lower one as you parted, drawing blood. She hissed, startled, and you smirked. Rowena pouted, and you clicked your tongue, shaking your head. She was at your mercy tonight. Nobody said anything about playing fair.

You kissed down her neck, every now and then capturing a bit of skin between your lips and leaving behind a butterfly bruise. They were violet and beautiful, marks of ownership she would wear for days, alike those she'd left on you earlier. It was one of your favorite parts of the game. Being allowed to hurt her, ruin her, and make it feel so good — not just for you, but for her as well.

Rowena accompanied every nip with a moan, pain and pleasure mixed into one, a sound that was magic to your ears. Her body was a canvas, blank and perfect, waiting for you to fill it, to make it yours. And, the artist you were, you were happy to oblige.

Your cupped her breasts. Small, supple, they fit perfectly into your palms. You kissed each one, suckling on rock-hard nipples. Biting on each before releasing them with a plop. Rowena looked at you with wounded, desperate eyes. Sad as a kicked puppy. You used to have a hard time resisting them, but over the years you'd built a tolerance for petty manipulations in the bedroom. You had, after all, learned from the best.

"Aw, what is it, baby?" you cooed, sarcasm thick in your voice.

"Y/N, please," she whined. A perfect, delicious little melody.

You raised an eyebrow. "Please what?"

"Touch me."

"I am touching you." You emphasized it by pinching one of her nipples, eliciting a yelp. "Is this not good enough for you?"

"It is, but…"

"But what?"

Rowena pouted. Realizing you weren't going to fall for that, either, she said,  _ "Please, _ Y/N."

Her hand slithered between her legs. You slapped it away. "Patience, sweetie."

"But—"

"No buts." Your fingers slid over her thigh in a gentle caress. A teasing. A promise of what was to come. "We've only just started. No need to rush things."

"I need you."

You chuckled. And she had the audacity to be offended when you called her a brat. "You're such a baby."

"Am not," she said defiantly, scowling.

"So are. My little baby," you teased, booping the tip of her nose.

She scrunched up her face adorably. "You're mean."

"That's rich, coming from you. Or did you forget last week?" She'd worked you so hard it had hurt to walk for two days straight. You hadn't regretted a thing; every lick of pain, every screaming muscle was worth it.

Rowena smirked. "T'was a lot of fun."

It definitely was. "And so is tonight." You raised a questioning eyebrow. "Unless you're chickening out."

"Please. As if I've anything to fear."

"I can be scary."

A snort, taunting, derisive.

You scowled. "What, you don't think I can?"

"Of course you can, darling." She patted your arm as if you were a dog who'd just performed the simplest trick.  _ Good girl, _ the gesture said, condescending to its very core.  _ So smart for a dog. _

You grit your teeth, smacking her hand off. "You're being a naughty girl."

There it was again, that smirk, infuriating and delicious all at once. Defiant as ever. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I'm going to have to punish you." Your pussy quivered at the thought. Pictures already formed in your mind; Rowena on her knees, your hand tangled in her hair, pulling to expose her neck, to show her who was in charge. To make her submit for every failure to do so resulted in a new punishment. Bruises adorning her body, bites and scratches, red lines and purple butterflies. An artwork to be admired.

She quired up an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Mmhm." You licked your lips, imagined your tongue exploring tastier places. All in good time. "Can't reward bad behavior, can I?"

"You most certainly can't," she agreed. Then, with a teasing grin, "If you're competent."

Brat mode on, it seemed. Not that it was ever off, in the sheets or the streets.

"Are you saying I can't punish you?"

"Och, I know you can. If it's any good, though… that is a guessing game, is it not?"

"Is that a challenge?" you asked, knowing full well it was.

"I don't know. Is it?" You scowled. Rowena shrugged, blinked innocently. "You are a more…  _ gentle _ lover, darling. I just don't know if you have it in you to be tough."

You slapped her in the face with all the strength you could muster. Her cheek instantly swelled an angry red, skin bristled, tingling with raging nerves. If that was how she wanted to play, so be it. You loved a good challenge.

The smug smile never left Rowena's mouth. If anything, it got bigger, bolder. She laughed, and it was hearty, too nonchalant for her own good. "Is that the best you've got?"

Frustration swelled in your chest. Riling you up was her favorite thing to do whenever you played. She loved to push you to your limits, loved to tease and taunt and mock until you snapped and took all your anger, all your rage out on her. It hurt a lot, and it hurt so good; you knew from your own nights as a "victim," when Rowena's own limits were pushed and you happily paid the price.

Your hands shot up to her neck, fingers wrapping around the sensitive skin. Tentative, gentle, testing the waters before the final countdown. Choking wasn't something you practiced often, but Rowena always welcomed it. She'd never refused a punishment, had never used her safe word and asked that you go slower, lighter. She welcomed pain for as much as it hurt, it felt so good, so empowering.

She knew you would never do anything she wasn't comfortable with. Knew one word of hers would be the end of everything, and your arms would be open for her to snuggle into as you murmured apologies. She felt safe with you, just as you had with her. There was no danger, no fear. Nothing either of you hadn't consented to.

Nothing but endless trust.

Rowena snorted. "Seriously?"

_ If that's how you wanna play it, fine. _ Eyes locked in an intense stare, your fingers tightened around her neck. Such a delicate thing she was. So small, so frail. You could crush her throat if you wanted to. It was a scary amount of power to have, but you knew how to wield it. You knew not to let it get to you, not to abuse it.

"How about this, Red?" The words rolled off your tongue in a purr, delicate, provocative. The way you knew made her quiver in all the right places. "Hm? You like this?"

Your nails dug into her skin as you squeezed and squeezed and squeezed, grazing it, almost drawing blood. Marking it. She was yours; your property, your little doll to play with, to do whatever you wanted to. And, gods, there were so many things you wanted to do. So many punishments you wanted to inflict, different ways to make her scream and beg and whimper underneath you. To make her curse your name just as you had hers last week as she'd worked you to your very last limit.

Rowena smacked your arm. Again. And again. She kept hitting you, kept fighting you, tiny fingers clawing. Desperate as a trapped kitten, and just as harmless.

Your mouth curled into a smirk. "What do you think you're doing? Hm, Red?" Then, teasing, "My Little Red Riding Hood."

She still fought you, desperate to get free. Strange as it was given the situation, she was pale as a ghost. Her eyes, you noticed far too late, were wide, filled with panic like a sky painted grey with storm clouds. Filled with  _ fear; _ pure, unadulterated. Terror much alike the one you knew well for, three years ago, it had been a constant. A nightmare she couldn't seem to wake up from, that followed her everywhere she went and made her fear every shadow she came across.

You instantly released her. Guilt ate at you as she doubled over and gasped for breath. You hadn't squeezed her that hard, had you? Surely, you were careful.

_ No. _ Your heart knew it before the reality of the situation reached your brain. You were too rough. You frightened her. You  _ hurt _ her.

"Rowena, I'm so sorry," you said. "I didn't—"

Were those tears dripping on the bed? Was she crying?

You had crossed her limits, but surely it wasn't  _ that _ bad. She couldn't be  _ that _ scared, like bad then, in that hotel room, with the Devil crushing her skull and setting her alight — all the while she was still alive.

Could she?

Surely she was exaggerating.

Right?

"Hey, are you okay?" You reached for her shoulder. She stiffened under your touch. Went still as a statue. "Sweetheart?"

Her eyes, wounded, broken, found yours for a brief moment before falling downwards in shame. A whimper tore from her mouth. More tears fell, and with them came sobs that shattered your heart into a thousand pieces. She was shaking, heart pounding so hard you could hear it, could feel the vibrations under your fingertips.

"Rowena—"

"Don't." She gathered the last remnants of her strength to say it, to make it curt, straight to the point. As close to regular one could get when they were crying.

"What is it?"

She shook her head. Whined. Cried like she hadn't in months, not since the last nightmare. They'd lessened in frequency, reappearing every now and then as opposed to every night like they used to. She'd managed to get them under control over the years, just as she had flashbacks; they weren't gone, never would be, but they weren't as frequent. She could sleep without fear now. She could walk the streets without worrying about something random sending her down a memory lane she wished she could erase from her head.

Was that what you'd done? Had you sent her back to that hotel room, straight into Lucifer's arms?

"Hey," you said softly, in that tone that always calmed her, that always put her at ease. You rubbed her shoulder, caressed it with utmost tenderness. "It's okay. You're okay."

Only she wasn't, was she? Because of you. Because you went too far. The accusations stung. It was an accident; you would never harm her on purpose, would never make her relive the worst day of her life. Would never cause her any kind of pain she didn't want you to.

Yet, you did exactly that.

Your intentions didn't matter. The fact remained that you did it. You swore you never would, and you did it, all over a stupid sexual game.

Tears pricked at your eyes, sharp as knives. Accusatory. Unforgiving. You were a bad person. A bad girlfriend. If Rowena decided it wasn't worth it, that she wanted nothing to do with you, she would be well within her rights.

"Come here." You didn't feel like you deserved it, but you wanted to make it up to her. Wanted to, at the very least, try to fix the damage you'd caused. Wanted to — selfishly so, and you hated yourself for it — feel her against you and, for a short moment, feel like you were doing something good, like you were helping her.

Just like countless times before, she dove into your arms, buried her head in your chest, and crumbled. She wept and sobbed and whined, sad to her core, broken, shattered. Unconsolable.

All because of you.

Guilty tears falling, you wrapped your arms around her. Tight as if your life depended on it. "It's okay," you whispered. "It's okay, baby. You're safe."

And she was. You were the only person she allowed to see this side of her; this frail, broken creature, all defenses down, protective walls torn apart. She knew you wouldn't judge her, wouldn't take advantage. She  _ trusted _ you.

That only made the guilt that ripped at you worse.

She trusted you, and you did this to her.

She trusted you  _ despite _ it.

You hurt her, and she still trusted you, still felt safe in your arms. Still sought comfort in you. Still let you see her at her worst, weakest, most vulnerable.

"I'm sorry," you said once again, and wanted to say it many more times, for as long as guilt ate away at you. "I'm sorry. I love you. I'm sorry."

You rocked her writhing form, gently, as if she were a child. Rubbed soft circles across her bare, sweat-soaked back. Nuzzled her hair and kissed her scalp.

"I'm so sorry."

Moment by moment, whisper by whisper, Rowena quieted down. Pulling away, she rubbed at her swollen, scarlet-rimmed eyes.

"You okay?" you asked.

She gave a small nod and, in a raspy voice, said, "Aye."

"Need anything? A glass of water?"

"I'm fine."

She wasn't, but, like always, she put on a front. Her way of regaining some control, some dignity after falling apart.

"Was…" You swallowed a lump in your throat. Licked your lips. Cleared your throat. "Was it a flashback?"

Rowena nodded.

The confirmation shattered you, tore you apart like a knife deep in your gut. You should have known this would happen. You'd choked her before, but never like that. Never that hard. It was your fault she was hurting. Your fault she would spend the night tossing and turning in bed, the memories burning in her mind, fresh as if not a day had gone by since the incident. Your fault she she was back in that hotel room, completely and utterly helpless, terrified to the bone..

It was all your fault.

"I'm sorry," you said for the upteenth time. As if that could change anything. As if an apology would erase the agony she was in — the agony you'd put her in. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Not in a way she didn't like. You'd planned to hurt her plenty tonight. Only, she was supposed to enjoy it. Not curl up in a ball and weep.

"I know," Rowena said, and meant it. She could hold a mean grudge. If there were any ill feelings, she would have let you know.

That only made you feel worse.

She should have been angry. She should have screamed her lungs out, arms flailing wildly, eyes flashing purple. She should have hurt you, or wanted to at the very least.

She should not be this calm about it after what you'd put her through.

It wasn't right.

Noticing your turmoil, Rowena reached for your hand. She was warm to the touch, soft, gentle. Her fingers twined with yours, squeezed tight. A comfort you didn't know you needed. Your nerves instantly calmed, tense muscles relaxed. The woman was magic, and she didn't even have to utter a single spell. All she had to do was touch you, and you were hers, your body, soul, and mind under her command.

Sometimes you hated it.

In times like this, you welcomed it.

"It was an accident," she said, looking straight into your eyes. Making sure you heard her loud and clear. "I'm fine. Don't beat yourself up."

"I shouldn't have choked you."

"You didn't know."

You didn't. But still… "We did it before, so I thought it was fine." You couldn't change what happened, but you could explain. You could make her understand. "I didn't mean to go that far. It just happened. I—"

"I know," Rowena said. "It was an accident, darling."

"I suck."

"You don't."

"I'm a bad girlfriend."

"You're not."

"I'm just like  _ him." _

"Don't you dare say that!" The sharpness of her tone startled you. Her eyes, still red and puffy, were fuming, anger coiling in them like a storm about to devastate a town. "You are nothing like  _ Lucifer." _ She spat the name like the filth it was. "I never want to hear you say things like that again. Have I made myself clear?"

You gave a nod. "I'm sorry."

A smile broke out on her mouth, small but encouraging. "Like I said, it's okay. I'm okay.."

"Are you sure?"

"Aye." You stared. She sighed. "For the most part. Don't worry. The worst has passed."

"I'm—"

Raising a forefinger in warning, she said, "If you say sorry one more time, you are sleeping on the couch."

You threw your arms up in defeat. "Sorry." She raised an eyebrow. You cringed.  _ Nice going, Y/N. _ "I'll just stop talking."

"That would be greatly appreciated," Rowena deadpanned.

A moment passed in silence. Then you said, "I guess I shouldn't choke you anymore."

"That would be for the best," she agreed. "I can handle it for the most part, but it would be best to prevent future accidents. Some things..."

"I know," you said, reclaiming her hand, squeezing it in emphasis. She didn't have to explain. If she couldn't handle it, that was enough for you to cease doing it. After all, you played these games for mutual pleasure. There was no satisfaction in suffering if it wasn't wanted. "Is there anything else you don't want me to do?"

"Just choking."

"Okay."

"Och, and…" You raised a questioning eyebrow. She bit her lip. "Maybe don't call me Red."

"Of course!" His favorite nickname for her. A bad choice of words on your part, especially when coupled with choking. "It completely slipped my mind."

"It's alright, darling."

Laying down, you waved for Rowena to join you. She was beside you in an instant, nestled in your embrace, curled up against you like a kitten.

"I love you," you said as you played with the locks of her hair, threaded your fingers through them.

"Me, too," she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone.

You laid like that for what felt like hours. It took a while, but, to your surprise, Rowena, feeling safe, protected, drifted off to sleep. Smiling, you kissed the top of her head and allowed your eyes to fall closed. Allowed much needed sleep to claim you.

Tomorrow was a new day. Hopefully, a brighter one.

After all, you had a game to finish.

**Author's Note:**

> Edited by miss-moon-guardian.


End file.
